


parentage

by orphan_account



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 01:58:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14802173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jon learns about his parentage, and Dany waits.





	parentage

_ You are the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. _

 

With that, Bran tears his world apart.

 

He can scarcely believe it, and neither can she.

 

There is concern in her eyes. Confusion too. And love, such deep love.

 

“Jon,” she says softly.

 

A memory flashes in his mind. Her eyes were shut, mouth parted in bliss.  _ Jon _ , she had whispered.

 

He takes a step back.

 

“I need to think,” he stutters out.

 

He cannot be around her right now.

 

He knows it hurts her, he can see it so painly on her face.

 

But he can’t, he simply can’t right now.

 

And so he leaves, not saying another word.

  
  


.

 

He avoids her and she tells herself that he needs time. She must be patient and wait. But that has never been her forte.

 

She relents and stalks him out one afternoon in the Godswood.

 

He looks tense and sombre, as he always does nowadays.

 

She doesn’t wait for him to invite her closer or acknowledge her because she knows he will do neither willingly. 

 

Instead, she simply walks up and sits down across him.

 

“You are avoiding me,” she accuses.

 

“I am not,” he answers, eyes averted to polishing Longclaw. “I have been busy.”

 

“Do not lie to me, Jon,” she snaps back.

 

He glances up at her, almost ashamed.

 

“What do you want me to say, Dany?  _ This  _ is a lot.”

 

“I know it is. Just, please, let me help.”

 

He shakes his head. He cannot explain it. He barely knows how he feels himself.

 

“I can’t,” he says weakly. “Not right now. I just need, I need time--”

 

“To think?” she spitefully cuts in.

 

He does not reply, too disheartened to even defend himself.

 

They sit together but remain so far apart in their minds. She is unwilling to leave, to admit defeat just yet.

 

“Will you tell the Lords?” she asks.

 

“No. One Targaryen is already too much for them to accept. Two will lead to revolt.”

 

She winces involuntarily at his choice of words, though it is true. Her arrival has hardly been well accepted.

 

“What about the Iron Throne?” she asks. She hates herself for raising it. She doesn’t want to think about it but Tyrion won’t stop pestering her. Late at night, even she can’t stop the doubts from circling in her mind. She can guess what his answer will be but... _ what if… _

 

“I have no desire for it,” he affirms. “The Throne is yours. You deserve it.”

 

He finally looks at her, truly holds her gaze. He hasn’t looked at her like this since, well, since  _ before _ .

 

There is just one final question on her lips. Her voice is timid and uncertain when she speaks.

 

“Do you still love me?”

 

He keeps staring, and she is so scared that he will say no.

 

He nods, no words spoken.

 

For now, that is enough.

 

.

 

Finally he comes to her. Late one night. He is drunk of ale and barely able to stop swaying when she opens her door.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he pleads desperately. “I love you, Dany. I’m sorry it has taken me this long.”

 

She lets him in and he stumbles forward.

 

He holds her face in his hand and presses their foreheads together.

 

“Gods, I’ve missed you,” he says fervently “I’ve been such a fool. Will you still have me, Dany?”

 

Her heart swells.

 

“Yes,” she answers reflexively.

 

He rushes to kiss her. Lips greedily seeking hers.

 

It tastes so sweet. She has longed for this. And yet, she pushes him away.

 

“You’re drunk,” she says. “I don’t want you like this.”

 

“Why not?” he pouts.

 

“Because,” it saddens her to say this, “You might regret it come tomorrow.”

 

“I could never regret you,” he vows. “At least, let me sleep here tonight. I will take the floor if you insist.”

 

“I don’t know, Jon.”

 

“Please, Dany,” he begs. 

 

She takes one look at the floor and then grabs his hand.

 

“Come,” she says and pulls him towards the bed.

 

.

 

She wakes to his grey eyes carefully observing her. Thoughtful and overwhelmingly soft.

 

His right hand caresses her cheek.

 

“I love you, Dany,” he pledges. “Always.”

 

Her fingers tangle with the loose ringlets of hair that fall across his face. She tucks them behind his ear.

 

She inches her face closer, till their noses graze together.

 

“I love you you too,” she whispers. “ _ Always. _ ”

 


End file.
